Cloud of Smoke October 14, 2007
Wafting away into space,
Seamless transitioning,
Only slightly opaque,
And yet that aroma is so unmistakable.
War's a bitch
Leaving her wake slapped.
Death rides a black mare,
The rider, a woman,
In her palm, a laughing skull.
Glowing in the dark,
And yet the wind blows out the candle,
Making the bitch rowdy again.
Like drums in a rock band,
The bullets spearhead
Another enemy attack.
No allies for the weak or strong;
One little sting is all it would take
To end it all.
"When all hope is pinned in the trenches,
All that remains is a cloud of smoke,
A witch's brew of macabre and despair,
A concoction of futility of few men's ends
But for the prince of those pawns."
Wafting away into space,
Seamless transitioning,
Only slightly opaque,
And yet that aroma is so unmistakable.
War's a bitch
Leaving her wake slapped.
Death rides a black mare,
The rider, a woman,
In her palm, a laughing skull.
Glowing in the dark,
And yet the wind blows out the candle,
Making the bitch rowdy again.
Like drums in a rock band,
The bullets spearhead
Another enemy attack.
No allies for the weak or strong;
One little sting is all it would take
To end it all.
"When all hope is pinned in the trenches,
All that remains is a cloud of smoke,
A witch's brew of macabre and despair,
A concoction of futility of few men's ends
But for the prince of those pawns."
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